Before the Storm
Tap, tap, tap.
Nick looked up as raindrops pelted his windows, sliding down like a silky release. Once upon a time, he loved the rain. Now, it was only a reminder of what he didn't have. A storm was raging outside, but Nick couldn't bring himself to close his largest window, which was just slightly open. He didn't want to block out the storm but invited it. It reminded him so much of her.
It physically hurt to think of her, and Nick didn't want to endure that horrible ache in his chest again. The feeling of drowning—the books he read lied. They said drowning was like a gradual release, not something suffocating him. But it wasn't the ocean drowning him. It was a person, a girl to be more accurate. And the feeling was all too familiar on these kind of days, and on better days, Nick could ignore it.
This was not one of these days.
Nick pursed his lips and closed his eyes tightly, wanting to close the window but was powerless to do so. He turned on the radio, the sound on soft. A song blared out softly, its notes shocking Nick to the core. Nick gasped aloud as he heard that sweet, sweet voice plunge straight through his heart. The notes stung but provided him with a bitter sort of release. It was her, her song. The song she wrote about him: 7 Things.
Miley.
Thinking about her name was painful, and a crash of memories rose through Nick, making him wince. He closed his eyes tightly again, but the words crashed over him. Her voice was laden with emotions, and Nick tried to ignore it. He reached out to turn off the radio but was powerless to press the button. So her voice filled up the room, soft and warm, and so, so sad.
The song finished with its final powerful, lasting note, and only then did Nick turn the radio off. It's a wonder he didn't break down more. Her songs played on the radio all the time, and Nick listened to the radio all the time. Sometimes, he would wonder if he only listened to the radio to hear her voice. He never used to listen as much until the radio played her songs.
He remembered when they were in that old truck of her dad's. Her song had gone on the radio, and the two had sang at the top of their lungs to their heart's content. He remembered the familiar sparkle in her eyes, always feeling proud that he was the one to put it there. He remembered how happy they were—so what had happened to that happiness?
He sure didn't dream it up.
A hysterical, uncontrollable laugh erupted from Nick's lips, and he was powerless to do anything about it. He laughed hysterically for several long heartbeats, feeling torn between screaming and crying. Nick cut off his laughing as an icy breeze fluttered in the room, staining the window's curtains dark with rain. Nick ignored the window and walked straight out the door, letting the rain soak him.
He shivered, but at the same time, he never felt more alive.
I know this isn't what I wanted, never thought it'd come this far…
He felt the icy drops penetrate his freezing flesh, but Nick could barely feel the cold. Or maybe he could—maybe he was just ignoring it. He let the cold numb him, and Nick shivered as the heavy rain lightened into a soft sprinkle of crystalline-colored drops. The drops cascaded on and all around him, and Nick twirled around, feeling very, very childish and very, very playful.
He remembered when Miley had took him by the hand and danced with him. And then, it had started to rain, and he remembered Miley's smile widening as she continued to dance with him. Then, they would head back to his porch, and she would rest her head on the crook of his neck as he draped his arm over her shoulders. They would watch the pouring rain until sunshine pierced through the gray-blue.
But he also remembered the softness in her eyes. The dark storm clouds had teased some gray into her eyes, making them gray-blue—so like the rain. And whenever it stormed, Nick would be reminded of her. He would call her up, and she would come over immediately, and they would dance out in the rain for what felt like hours. Then, he would hold her in his arms as they waited for the storm to pass.
But they never wanted it to pass. They had seemed a long time ago, in a surreal universe full of happy endings and smiles.
Just thinking back to where we started and how we lost all that we are…
He remembered when they kissed. But he would remember more than how soft and eager her lips felt against his as he twisted his hands in her long, wavy locks. He remembered how it felt—how alive he felt, more than anything. How he thought that he would never feel alive as he did without her. The images weren't always so vivid, but the feelings were. The memory turned into the day she left his house that one last time. He remembered feeling like he was dying. He remembered wanting to say: Take care of my heart, I have left it with you, but ending up chickening out.
Angry tears raced down Nick's face, and his throat felt hot.
He remembered the both of them, 13 and in love, just enjoying each other's company without the need to say anything. He remembered the small things about her: the way she would subconsciously play with her hair when she had a nervous air buzzing around her, the way her eyes would light up before she smiled when she was happy, the way she could barely contain her excitement when he rolled up in her driveway…
We were young and times were easy, but I could see it's not the same…
Nick took a deep breath. He headed back inside, soaked and shivering from the cold. This time, he shut out the storm. He stripped off his t-shirt, wringing it out in the sink, before pulling a fresh one over his head. He groaned as he remembered that he had promised a good friend of his, Demi Lovato, actually, that he would go to the party she hosted. He didn't feel like going, but he got dressed anyway.
Nick put on a classy white dress shirt and dark jeans, wanting to convey a casual yet classy feel to his outfit. He wore his favorite pair of Converse, which were worn from the months of wearing them. He ran a hand through his dark curls before heading out. At the age of 18, he suddenly felt very, very nervous. Did Demi invite Miley? Of course Demi would. And how had that not crossed Nick's mind before?
Groaning, Nick stepped into his car. He hadn't talked to Miley in years, but he kept up with her social media. He didn't mean to stalk her like the billion other people who were great fans of her or just wanted a good story, but he liked to see how she was getting along. He tried and tried… and then some. But he just could not break free from her. He hadn't dated anyone else. Oh, he tried—but there just hadn't been the same spark, and he ended things with every girl he got with.
Nick arrived and headed inside Demi's house, which was dimly light. Lanterns and candles danced around the room, reflecting a sort of romantic and artistic feel to it. Demi was chatting away with someone Nick vaguely recalled seeing in a magazine. Demi caught his gaze, and a grin pierced her face. She squealed and tackled him in a fierce embrace as he patted her back a bit awkwardly. "Nick! I'm so glad you could make it!" Demi said excitedly.
"I told you I would, didn't I?" Nick said, laughing lightly.
Her smile brightened again, and she threw her arms around him again. He sighed into the hug, and she caught his gaze steadily. "You know, someone should change your name to Nick Depressed Jonas," she teased, and he groaned. "Look at your face—am I seriously that repulsive?" A Demi-sized smile was on her face. It was wide and never changed. He was glad, somewhat glad.
"I'm fine with Nick Jerry Jonas," Nick told her, a weak smile on his face.
Demi nudged him in the ribs, looking pleased. "Well, would you look at that?"
"Dem, what're you—?"
Nick's. Jaw. Dropped.
He caught his breath as he watched a slim figure enter the room. Her light-brown hair, streaked with caramel and honey-colored highlights, was curled to perfection and cascaded down her back like a perfect waterfall. She was faintly tanned, making her skin seem to glow. Or maybe that was just the lighting or something. Whatever. Nick was past caring.
The girl's dress was a sparkly silver one, which had a sort of flowing material. The dress had one strap that gave the illusion of a silver braid. Her other shoulder was bare, revealing her perfect complexion. She wore silver cowboy boots, which made Nick smile absentmindedly. Her dress hit her knees, and she wore no makeup except for a slight glossing on her perfect lips.
Miley.
Miley drew everyone's attention to her, like she was the sole light glowing in the dark. In truth, she kind of was. She was utterly captivating. Her silver dress made her azure eyes, warm and long-lashed, glow a little more. Her arm was looped through someone else's arm, which kind of ruined the effect—for Nick, anyway. Everyone—even Demi—looked positively dazzled as the stunning couple made their entrance.
By her side was her boyfriend, Liam Hemsworth. His face was handsome, Nick had to agree begrudgingly—what with that pale blonde hair and stunning green-blue eyes. Liam wore a crisp white tuxedo, probably to match Miley. Nick looked away. He didn't want to see her. He especially didn't want to see her with him, looking so perfectly happy when Nick was hurting so much.
I'm standing here but you don't see me, I'd give it all for that to change…
But Miley only had eyes for Liam. She probably wasn't aware that everyone else was staring at her.
"Excuse me," Nick muttered to Demi as he walked out of the house.
Nick didn't leave the party. He just lingered outside, the faint buzz of the music reminding him that he was indeed at a party. He narrowed his eyes. Of course Demi would invite Miley. And of course Miley would bring Liam. A slight warmth in Nick's throat told him that he was crying. His throat closed and clenched around the sobs, and Nick brushed some tears away.
And I don't want to lose her, I don't want to let her go…
Nick had tried with Miley so many times, but they always ended up fighting and falling apart. They had then decided that they shouldn't try—and the whole time Nick was yelling at her to get out and that he'd do fine without her, he could feel his heart breaking and his world collapsing down on him. It was after she had left that he had come to the realization that she wasn't coming back, not this time.
Nick was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps sounding towards him.
"Nick."
Nick flinched. Only one person could make him feel this way. He didn't turn but closed his eyes. He then felt her hand on his shoulder. He was trembling, and he knew that she knew that. He turned slightly, letting her hand fall back to her side. He stared at her, struggling to breathe. His lungs closed in his chest uncomfortably. "Miley." He let her name out in a single breath, letting the name ring out. Where he had been expecting happiness (from Liam, obviously) was deep, deep sadness and… regret? Maybe he could pretend it was.
"How have you been?" she asked him softly.
"I don't know," he said bluntly. "Sold some albums, gone on a few tours. Nothing much has changed." He wanted to say more, he wanted to say so much more. He wanted to tell her everything he was holding inside his chest. But why had she come out to talk to him? Surely she wanted to know something more than just how he was doing. Then, he realized that the silence had gone on between them for too long to seem natural. Coughing slightly, he said, "And you?"
It was a stupid question, really. As he mentioned before, he had been stalking her on social media and knew exactly how she was. She was happy. It was that simple and complicated and impossible and irreversible. He had wanted to be the one to make her smile, not Liam. Not some Australian hunk Miley had fallen for during the filming of a movie. Selfishly, Nick wished Miley was still hurting like he was.
I'm standing out in the rain, I need to know if it's over, 'cause I will leave you alone…
"Okay," she said, cocking her head to the side. A cold gust of wind billowed through her thick tresses, but the moonlight lit up her eyes, teasing silver in them. "I've been okay." He balked silently. He had been expecting so much more than that. He had been expecting something along the lines of, oh, I've been great, I've just been brilliant! And maybe, if Miley felt like boasting (but she wouldn't, because that wasn't the kind of person she was), she might say something akin to, Liam's amazing, you know? He's a great kisser.
"Okay?" he echoed stupidly.
"Okay," she repeated.
An awkward silence settled between them, and Nick shifted uncomfortably as wistfulness spread through him, like a ripple spreading along blue waters. He remembered when they didn't need words to fill up the silence between them. He remembered how in love he had been with her—how he was still so in love with her. He could easily, easily admit it—but something was stopping him. "How's Liam?" Nick blurted out before he could stop himself.
Miley paused. "He's fine," she murmured softly. She must've noticed the surprise in his eyes because she quickly added, "He's great. He's nice and warm and loving and…" Miley closed her eyes, concealing the most precious of jewels for a brief heartbeat. "He's really something special," she finally decided with quietly. "He's… everything I ever dreamed a guy would be like."
Nick stared. "Miley, why did you come out here?"
Her gaze seared into his, but he held her gaze firmly. "I wanted to see you," she confessed, her honesty taking him by surprise. "I wanted to see you," she repeated. "I was missing you, and I just…" She looked away briefly before locking gazes with him again. "I wanted to stop this feud between us—it's frustrating, and it isn't solving anything."
Nick scoffed. "It's a little late for mending, Miley."
Flooded with all this pain, knowing that I'll never hold her, like I did before the storm…
He thought he saw a brief moment of panic in her eyes but brushed it off as nothing. The least he could do is keep a stoic face until he was back in his house—so he could sit in the darkness, alone with his thoughts, and just cry all his emotions out until he was all out of tears. "Nick…" He refused to meet her eyes and was beyond shocked when her fingers brushed against his face to turn his face towards her—so their eyes would meet. "What's wrong?"
He laughed with no humor. "What's right? I'll tell you what's wrong. Liam. I hate him." She flinched at that, and Nick's gaze bore into hers. A tumble of emotions erupted in his chest as he watched her. It hurt him to see her hurting because of him. "I hate him so much, and I can't stand seeing him with you—but that's not because of you two being a thing—he's a monster all by himself."
Miley frowned. "That's not fair, Nick—you don't even know him."
He crossed his arms. "And how much do you know about him?"
She looked frustrated right now. He didn't blame her. If he was her, he was sure that he would hate himself by now, if that wasn't already settled in place. If he was in her shoes, he would've slapped himself by now. She didn't, always a master at self-control. Kind of. She sighed wearily. "Liam's a good guy. He's… patient, nice, understanding… I like him so much." Her words stung, whether she intended them to or not. "He's easy to hang out with. He's, like, Prince Charming or something."
Nick closed his eyes. He remembered her book Miles To Go. One of the chapters was called Prince Charming. You can guess who Prince Charming was.
Miley must've realized that her words did a bit more than just sting. "I'm sorry, Nick," she murmured softly. "I didn't mean it like that—"
The rest of the words sunk in. "What do you mean 'like'?"
Miley buried her face in her hands for a brief moment. "Oh, Nick, are you honestly so blind?"
With every strike of lighting comes a memory that lasts…
He stared, offended. "What? Is he not everything you think he's cracked out to be? Or is it something else? Like… like he's a Prince Charming but not your Prince Charming." He had meant the words sarcastically, but he saw Miley's eyes grow bright with tears. His jaw dropped, ever so slightly, and he closed it. "He's not your Prince Charming. He's a guy you like but…"
"I should like him more than I do," Miley whispered, her voice barely decipherable. "He's so, so great, and I just…" His heart raced as another memory flooded him, when Miley had dated some other guy (was his name Justin or something?) but had broken things off with him to be with Nick. But he remembered more than them just rejoicing—he remembered them yelling at each other before they had.
Not a word is left unspoken as the thunder starts to crash…
He looked up at Miley and caressed her cheek softly. Then, he realized that it was raining—albeit softly. The light—almost not there—sprinkles had mingled with Miley's own few tears. She was biting her lip in the way she did when she was scared, and it hurt Nick so, so much to see her so, so vulnerable. Her lips parted slightly. "I still love you," she whispered, eyes bright. Nick couldn't believe it. His words came out before he knew it.
"I never stopped loving you," he breathed.
Electricity crackled around them, and Nick felt his heart racing. He wondered if she could hear, he wondered if she knew how much she was affecting him. He felt so, so alive with her. Her gaze was trained intently on his, and he felt his heart playing on his face. Miley looked vulnerable—vulnerable and real and so, so Miley. She was shaking, and he was shaking, too, and he felt like a hurricane was swirling around them, so, so fast—not stopping. He wondered if she could feel it, too. She had to. He needed her, he needed her so much.
She shook her head. The brief spell was over. "I'm with Liam—and this'll never work out anyway." She closed her eyes, her long lashes casting dim shadows along her face. "We tried, Nick. We tried so many times… and then… we couldn't. We couldn't fight through the pain, and we couldn't hold ourselves together." She brushed some stray curls out of her face and stared at him sadly.
"So you're just going to give up?" Nick now realized that he had been holding on for so long and trying for so long because he had some hope that she would come running back.
"I'm sorry." And she did sound sorry. He knew that.
He backed away from her but let their eyes lock for one final heartbeat. "I'm sorry, too."
Maybe I should give up…
Before the Storm
Nick stayed in his house and just… sat around. He didn't really do anything. He didn't really want to do anything. He felt empty and all alone, and he knew he was just missing her. Miley Ray Cyrus. Every girl wanted him, and he wanted the one girl he couldn't have. And even if Liam wasn't in the way, something else would be: tours, publicity, pressure, fights, screaming, crying.
I'm standing out in the rain, I need to know if it's over, 'cause I will leave you alone…
Nick couldn't get her out of his mind. He remembered the look in her eyes that night, and he dreamed about her. She was just there, staring and watching him with those sad, sad eyes. It broke his heart every time, and Nick would wake up crying. Of course, some of those nights, he would wake up trembling, and his eyes would burn like he was about to cry, but he would be all cried out.
All because of a girl.
But in truth, Nick was just a lovesick (though successful, though that was hardly relevant at the moment) guy who wanted his girl back.
Flooded with all this pain, knowing that I'll never hold her, like I did before the storm…
Nick sighed and stared at his radio. He would spend most days in a slump. And when it was raining, he would go outside and spend hours at a time either letting the rain soak him or just watch it on the porch. Call it wasting his time, but hey… it was his time to waste, right? Nick would spend all his time brooding and sinking in despair with what if questions about him and Miley.
Nick pulled out his phone and stared at the blank screen for several long heartbeats before actually doing a bit of internet surfing. His most recent search history was her name, and he tapped it gently. His eyes shifted around his kitchen as he waited for his phone to finish loading the page. Finally, he stared as the words blurred before him. Nick nearly dropped his phone.
In short, it was the most shocking three seconds of Nick's life.
Before the Storm
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Miley mentally hit herself on the head. How could she break up with Liam? Miley felt the now-familiar rush of embarrassment flood through her. What was the word she was looking for? Ashamed. Yes, that was an incredibly apt definition of how she felt. She hadn't talked to Nick in years, and she had just dumped Liam out of the blue even when she and Nick didn't do… anything.
Liam, of course, was upset but did his best to hide it. He would ask why, and Miley would seethe her teeth and mutter something like, the spark just isn't there anymore or I don't want to keep you trapped in a relationship that'll only hurt you in the end. She gave him vague answers, and he would argue until he realized she wasn't going to change her mind.
She left him, but she saw the crystalline tears in his eyes.
It hurt her so, so much to see him so heartbroken. They had been together for a long while, and some of the best moments of those months had been with him. But secretly, she knew that it was only because Nick wasn't in her life for those years, no matter how much she tried to deny it. Miley didn't keep up with Nick's social media—she wasn't sure how she'd react.
But Liam was a part of her now, whether she liked it or not, and there was no getting rid of him… Except… she had. She had broken up with him when he had been telling her how happy she made him. Talk about horrible timing. She remembered seeing his face fall—but she also remembered when she and Nick ended things (maybe) for good. It was as if his entire world came crashing down. She remembered feeling the same, and she saw so many emotions swimming in his beautiful brown irises. She remembered the pain, the guilt, the disillusionment.
How could Miley turn away from Liam? He had always been there for her when he could. He would try, and she appreciated that. That was more than other past boyfriends.
Miley's throat closed tightly. She remembered the resignation in Nick's eyes. Even when they had fought and broken up before, she didn't remember seeing that distinct emotion. All she remembered was the horrible pain and guilt and horror in his eyes. Was it true? Had Miley dumped Liam for nothing? Was Nick done fighting for them? If there was still something for them, anyway.
Tears slid down Miley's cheeks. When had everything gotten so messed up?
A slight knock on Miley's door made her turn to it. She paused for several moments to stop the tears and compose herself—to make herself presentable. She opened the door—and surprise, surprise. "Liam!" Miley wanted to throw herself in his arms, like she would whenever he showed up at her door, but she resisted. How could she? The pain was still in his eyes.
"Miley," he said slowly, as if speaking her name hurt him. She shifted, and he entered. Miley closed the door behind him and looked at him. He met her eyes, and the pain in his blue irises was overwhelming. She swallowed hard. "I told myself I wouldn't come back here—then I realized how much time I spent here." He shrugged slowly. "But it was at that party, wasn't it?"
"W-what?"
"Don't talk to me like you don't know what I'm talking about," Liam said callously, scoffing. Suddenly, his eyes were alive again, blazed with that spark—all of his Liam-ness was back. Then, it was gone, and his eyes were dull again. "I saw you. I saw you talk to Nick, and I saw how he looked at you." Despite the fact that it was Liam telling this to her, butterflies erupted in Miley's stomach of Liam noticing how Nick was watching her…
Did it mean Nick still had feelings for her? No. He had given up on them now, if he hadn't before.
"What'd he say?" Liam asked quietly.
"Some things," Miley said vaguely, and Liam's gaze burned for a moment. "He said… he was sorry that things turned out this way before he left. He's already given up on any chance of…" Miley closed her eyes. "Liam, Nick and I were never going to work out—but that didn't mean I wanted to keep hurting you because I just didn't know—I was confused, okay? I was confused and guilty, and I just didn't know what to do!"
Trying to keep the light from going in and the clouds from ripping out my broken heart…
"And you decided to break up with me?" He was incredulous now.
"What was I supposed to do? Wait until he faded out of my life long enough for me to feel like there was—?" Miley shut her mouth immediately.
Realization dawned in Liam's eyes, followed by utter shock and pain. "Was I just some sort of… pawn to you? Because you couldn't have Nick?"
"No, of course not!" Miley exclaimed. "I care about you—"
"Bullshit! Come off of it, Mi, it'll never be enough," he said, turning away from her. Miley watched him sadly. A part of her knew he was right, but another part of her wanted to keep fighting. "Okay, you care about me. But how much did you care for Nick? How much do you still care about him?" Miley flinched. "You might've written him out of your life—but physically can only do so much. And there's not even that, now. You have too much history."
"Liam…"
"Don't Liam me." Liam strode over to the door. "Don't even call me. Forget I came here. Go along and run after him."
"Liam, wait—"
"—for what, Miley?" he interrupted.
She fell silent, and he snorted in disgust. She walked towards him and without thinking embraced his stiff body. His body was rigid in her arms, but it relaxed, recognizing hers. Miley took comfort in his arms, even if it was just for a brief moment. Then, his body stiffened, the moment gone. Miley looked up at him, feeling pale and defeated. Then, he stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Liam, I'm sorr—"
"—don't," he interrupted. "Don't say it."
Miley shook her head. "Okay, I won't say it."
Liam pursed his lips. Then, he backed away from her. He met her eyes briefly. His deep sea-colored eyes burned into hers, searing into her memory. She held his gaze bleakly, and he dropped her gaze. He looked so hurt and so confused, and Miley knew that she was bad person for thinking it, but she was relieved. More relieved than she had been in a long time. Her heart clenched at the thought of hurting the person she had sworn to love forever. Not at a wedding, but she clearly had said it. Of course, she had also said the same thing to Nick. She stared at Liam, who stood there for a moment. Then, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped out of the driveway…
Miley wondered if she would ever see him again on her driveway.
We always say a heart is not whole without the one who gets you through the storm…
So was Nick the one that got her through the storm?
Before the Storm
"She… she broke up with him…"
Nick felt numbness course through him. The sensation wasn't unfamiliar but not exactly needed right now.
"She broke up with him. Him. Her fiance, for God's sake…"
The thought seemed so far-fetched that Nick didn't believe it.
Miley and Liam. Liam and Miley. You couldn't mention one without mentioning the other. They were always together. They were so in love. Nobody believed they would break—of course, people thought the same thing about Nick with Miley… and Nick couldn't help but blame himself for this. If he hadn't talked to Miley at that god-forsaken party… if only.
But why was Nick upset?
There was his girl, single and available.
"Damn it," Nick swore.
His phone buzzed with a call, the sound like startling electricity in the silence—well except for the rain pattering lightly against the windowsill—and Nick picked it up, seeing the caller ID flash vividly on the screen. He didn't remember pressing accept, but the next thing he knew, there was so much shouting through the phone. It was Joe, screaming his head off. "Have you realized what you've done? You ruined a relationship, Nick! Not just a boyfriend-girlfriend fling type. We're talking people engaged. People IN LOVE. And you ruined that!"
Nick flinched. He did feel bad. But not sorry, never sorry. "Joe, Miley ended the relationship. What makes you think I had anything to do with it?"
Nick could practically see Joe sneering sarcastically. "Oh, I don't know. Because EVERY SINGLE TIME she breaks up with a boyfriend it's because of you?"
"That's not true." Nick wasn't sure of his words, but his words were defiant and immediate.
"Isn't it?"
Nick fell silent. "I'll call you later, Joe."
"No, you don't get to—"
Nick hung up.
He buried his face in his hands and let memory over memory wash over him. All of it was Miley… The first time he had met her, when she was cute and pretty with that brilliant smile that held all the nervousness combined in the world. When she had told him that she didn't do handshakes, she did hugs. He had grown so fond of the joke… All the hugs they had shared.
He remembered her lips, her perfect lips. He remembered kissing her for the first time outside of that pizza place, remembering sweating like crazy through the entire thing and nervously picking at his pizza. He remembered Miley smiling her cute smile. Then, he remembered pulling her outside, taking her by the hands, and kissing her—right there. It had been so magical…
He remembered the exchanged glances that burned with emotion and held so much after they had broken up. He remembered holding Selena's hand but feeling nothing for Selena. He remembered holding Selena's hand but feeling like he was holding Miley's… And at those Disney meetings, he remembered stealing glances at her as Billy Ray sent Nick the cold shoulder.
He remembered crying silently at night and not letting anybody know, but he knew everyone could tell by his puffy eyes and utterly heartbroken expression. He remembered Miley haunting his dreams, haunting his nightmares. Her piercing eyes, her long brunette tresses, her sun-kissed skin, her perfect gleaming smile. He remembered drawing comfort from looking at pictures of her and them. Remembered spending hours poring over his favorite photos.
Standing out in the rain, knowing that it's really over. Please don't leave me alone…
And the other night…Miley had been the one to say that she was still in love with him… Unless he had possibly dreamed that up. Why couldn't everything just stop, and why was Nick's chest hurting so bad?
No, Nick thought. Not his chest. His heart.
Procrastinating was for fools. Of course, Nick had been procrastinating for the better part of his years. What was another day?
No. Nick didn't want to wait anymore. He had waited and waited, and now, he simply didn't want to.
Nick forced his feet up, and without grabbing a coat, headed straight out. He got in his car and started driving. He drove until he reached the driveway—her driveway. He parked—sloppily, which was quite uncharacteristic of him, but he was past caring—and got out the car. He ran towards the door, scrambling up the steps and raising a hand to knock on the door. He hesitated. No, Nick, an inner voice inside his head told him sternly. No more waiting.
Flooding with all this pain, knowing that I'll never hold you.
That voice was right. Nick knocked.
The door opened, and Miley's mouth fell open. Nick's eyes widened. He watched the hope in Miley's eyes fade into a bleakness that simply didn't belong on her face. Nick surmised that she must've been waiting for Liam. "Nick," she mumbled quietly, "what're you doing here?" She didn't sound surprised, though. She had been expecting him, she knew he would come because why wouldn't he?
"To see you." His answer was simple, but that was all he needed to say.
She frowned. "It's raining. You're freezing." She reached out to touch him, as if to prove a point, but Nick felt a million fireworks burst through him as her fingers brushed against his arm. She stiffened but didn't recoil, as if she had felt that electric jolt. He stared into those endless pools of blue, his wet curls plastered to his forehead. "Come in," she finally said, voice cracking.
He entered.
He turned back to her, lips trembling as he stared. She reached forward and hesitated. Then, she moved past the hesitation to brush his wet curls aside, as if they were still thirteen, and he had let her touch his curls for the first time. And touch them she had. She had messed them up, but he remembered laughing with her. With anyone else, he would've been enraged. She also had a personalized nickname for him: Nicky. He hated it when anyone else said it, but from her mouth? Two words: pure heaven.
"You broke up with him," Nick said quietly. He knew it was none of his business, but he had to get this over with, despite how he didn't want to bring Liam up again.
She nodded, just a slow movement of her head. Her eyes filled with tears, and Nick realized that she had spent the better part of her day crying. He instinctively reached out and brushed those tears away, hand trembling. His hand stayed there, caressing her face. Her lips were slightly parted, and God Nick wanted to kiss her, but he knew that they had to talk first.
"Yeah, I did." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I-I-I—"
"Why did you do it?"
"I told you already," she murmured sadly. "I told you, but now, it's all just so messed up, and I just can't deal with any of this right—"
He leaned forward and kissed her, interrupting whatever words she was going to say next, and God, she felt like a pure refined piece of heaven beneath his lips. She was kissing him back, and the fire inside Nick's veins was exploding, and the storm was just crackling outside, lightning and thunder burning and fizzling—and oh my God, was she always this good a kisser?
"There are a million reasons why we shouldn't be together. But there are a million reasons why we should," he whispered.
She watched him, her gaze unnervingly disconcerting. "Nick..."
"I love you," he breathed, telling her the words he had been aching to tell her for such a long time, back when they were thirteen and in love and hardly having any problems, back when she was with Justin Gaston, back when she was with Liam, back to all of those messed up meetings, back to Send It On. More memories washed over him, and he stared into her piecing blue irises, his heart racing faster than ever.
A shaky smile settled on her lips. "I love you, too."
And then, her lips were on his again, and his entire being was consumed by her. Every thought, every fear, every desire, every passion—all of it was her. The fear fizzled out as flames raced through his head. Desire mixed in with his passion. He felt a rush—a rush he hadn't felt in a long time—sear into his blood, dancing its dangerous dance. The words echoed at the back of his throat: I love you.
He met her clear, lucid gaze, knowing that he could now hold her, kiss her, whisper sweet murmurs in her ear. "I didn't think this was possible," he rasped.
She wrapped her arms around him. "Me, either."
"I missed holding you…"
Like I did Ƀεϝѳʀε Ϯḧε ꞨϮѳʀϻ…
6/11. Happy Niley Day.